Really! He Had No Idea
by The Keddster
Summary: "You have no idea." Kate Beckett teased him with those words just after they met. He admitted she was right four years later - Richard Castle really 'had no idea'. And as it turns out... neither did she!
1. He had no idea

**A/N: My first story with zero dialogue – very difficult for someone who's a **_**talker**_** like me.**

Disclaimer: The usual.

**Really! He Had No Idea  
**

Richard Castle had learned a lot about Kate Beckett in four years, and he'd fallen madly, deeply and hopelessly in love with her. Now that he's _allowed _to love her; openly, freely and completely he is discovering that she was right… _there are so many layers to the Beckett onion_, and now she's letting him peel them away.

She was absolutely right all those years ago; he _really_ _had no idea…_

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No idea that she not only cooks, but she is practically a walking cook book; capable of the most complex of dishes, a veritable United Nations of recipes swimming in that beautiful head of hers. And now she loves to cook for _him_.

No idea that she really does read and drink wine in the bath; a naked, wet and sudsy Kate Beckett, with one of his books in one hand, a glass of Merlot in the other, surrounded by a cloud of vanilla-scented steam and the soft yellow glow of flickering candlelight is truly a sight to behold and one that very nearly left him pulseless the first time he saw her.

No idea that she doesn't really have a tattoo _or_ a navel ring... she's such a tease; but he already knew _that_.

No idea that she paints her toenails, but only in deep red or bright purple - never pale pink or coral or insipid pearly hues. She even let him paint them for her once; in bed. For future reference... Kate Beckett wearing blue lace panties and one of his shirts, a bottle of nail polish in a colour called 'Scandalous Red' and outrageously expensive white cotton sheets is a recipe for disaster. By the time they were done, eight of her toenails remained unpainted, they were naked, sweaty and exhausted, the bottle of blood-red polish was lost somewhere in the bed and subsequently, his sheets looked like they belonged at a crime scene.

No idea that she adores his daughter and probably his mother too. He strongly suspects the feeling is mutual.

No idea that she's unbelievably ticklish. This particular discovery was made on their very first night together. As he worshipped and mapped every dip and curve of her body he memorised her reactions to his touch; the soft gasps, subtle arches, low moans, whispered pleas, along with the loud cries, frantic clutching, desperate rocking and most surprisingly the squealing, high pitched laughing. He loves to elicit every one of those reactions from her as often as possible, but it's the laughter in all its giggling infectious glory that always makes him smile.

No idea that she sings like a bird. He knew she could carry a tune, had heard her sing briefly several times, but the first time he heard her really _singing _she was getting ready for a date with him, putting her makeup on and softly singing along to Sarah McLachlan's 'Angel' and it took his breath away.

No idea that she swears... frequently. Sure, he's heard her curse at work many times; she _is_ a homicide detective after all. But the barrage of expletives she let loose one afternoon after dropping a can of coffee on her foot took him completely by surprise. She'll swear when she's injured, angry, confused or frustrated, and the F-Bomb is a particular favourite. But he was more than a little stunned and not ashamed to admit, completely turned on, the first time she swore in the bedroom. Again she seems to favour the F-Bomb; it's often prefacing his name or a protracted 'Yessss', and she is also not above a little blasphemy.

No idea that she's a spelling, grammar and punctuation tyrant and not even a best-selling author is off her radar. He teases her that he'll get her a job as an editor at Black Pawn... not.

No idea that the box of 'toys' she alluded to, teased him with... is real, and he didn't even have to snoop to get access to it. What surprised him the most was that many of the 'items' were still in their packaging... gifts from the owner of an Adult Store after the team solved his business partner's murder. Apparently they were _all_ given a box of 'gifts'. How did he not _know_ this? The fact that he got to open Kate's _with_ her... _wow_.

No idea that she really can drink him under the table. For an, albeit reformed, party-hard playboy, it is an embarrassingly shameful fact... Richard Castle was 'out-drunk', by a _girl_. Oh the fun Ryan and Espo have had with that.

No idea that she is scarily flexible. He knew she loved yoga, but the reality of its physical _benefits _have almost blown his mind. He has seen her practice postures at home, by his pool in the Hamptons and she really wants him to do a class with her. His reluctance is only partly fear of excruciating physical pain; his other reservation is that loose clothing will not sufficiently contain the physical reaction he is prone to having at just a glimpse of Kate Beckett in Adho Mukha Shvanasana or Supta Baddha Konasana.

No idea that being _in_ love with her would be such a wonderful roller coaster… scary, amazing, heart-breaking, breathtaking, remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating, joyous, _extraordinary_. But being _loved_ by her is _all_ those things and _more_. It's overwhelming, intoxicating, terrifying, comforting, exhilarating; because she loves fiercely, deeply and completely and it's _everything_.

No idea that she's scared of bees. She'll take on a 250 lb. man brandishing a weapon, hold a snake, let a gigantic hairy spider crawl up her arm, pick a live rat off his shoulder with her bare hands, but a single bee invading her personal space sends her into a frenzy of swatting and squealing that he is never going to let her live down.

No idea that she's a snuggler. Yes, having Kate Beckett wrapped around him was a long-held fantasy, and in every one of those fantasies they are naked, or at the very least, well on their way to nakedness. But Kate wrapped around him wearing one of his shirts, a pair of his pyjama pants or swamped by his robe is almost better than any of those fantasies. It doesn't matter where they are; the couch, the bed, his desk chair, she'll snuggle with him anywhere, any chance she gets, and he loves it.

No idea that she likes jewellery. Her lack of adornment by precious metals and stones is apparently about the potential hazards of her job and has nothing to do with an aversion to all things shiny or sparkly. As well as her mother's ring and her father's watch, she has a varied and eclectic assortment of jewellery; a collection he fully intends to add to ASAP, probably starting this Christmas. There is one particular piece of 'bling' he can't wait to buy her, already has a design in his head, but he'll keep that to himself... for now.

No idea that she keeps a journal; a soft leather-bound notebook she leaves on her bedside table, pen clipped to the front and what he assumes are small keepsakes protruding untidily from within its pages. She writes in it most nights and while he would dearly love to know what's in it, the fact that she trusts him enough to leave it out in the open means he'll never, ever look without her permission. Little does he know she plans to read parts of it to him one day soon.

Absolutely no idea that she is loving every minute of peeling away the layers of the _Richard Castle onion_; because even though he rarely keeps a thought, an idea or an opinion to himself, even though he has lived a large portion of his adult life on Page Six and even though she has known him for four years, he has turned out to be more of a mystery than she ever imagined. The Richard Castle _she _gets to see, especially now, is a wonderful contradiction, an unlikely mix of ego and humility, immaturity and depth, silliness and seriousness; and she told him all this the first time she said 'I love you'.

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**Love to know what you think. Please!**

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**Adho Mukha Shvanasana is Downward Facing Dog in Sanskrit. The other pose I mentioned… Google it.**

**Namaste**


	2. She had no idea

**A/N: Wow guys, thank you for your wonderful reviews, follows, faves and PMs. You're awesome, and your lovely words plus requests to continue have inspired me to add a second chapter. I was a little stuck at one point... thanks to crazy4castle for some of the words at the start, that helped get me to the finish.**

** Here's all the things Kate _didn't know_ about Castle until they became Caskett. Hope you like it.**

Disclaimer: Insert usual blurb here.

**Actually, _She _Had No Idea**

Kate Beckett had no idea that the arrogant playboy she met four years ago; the cocky, immature, egotistical, self-centred jackass she arrested was not the _real _Richard Castle.

The smart, funny, soft-hearted man-child who believes in magic and fairy-tales only appears around people he cares about and _that man_ makes her feel cherished, safe and _happy;_ every day. She really had no idea...

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No idea that the man who calls himself 'the cool Dad' and has single-handedly raised a mature, sensitive and capable daughter, used to sit beside that tiny sleeping child and question whether he could really raise her alone, terrified that he would totally mess her up.

No idea that he owns dozens of T-shirts printed with almost every conceivable superhero, comic book character, animated legend and sci-fi hero. And let's not forget his underwear and sock collection. She grins and feels a tiny flutter of arousal at the memory of him parading around her almost-dark apartment one night, in nothing but a pair of blue superman boxer briefs; the large luminous glow-in-the-dark 'S' on the front highlighting _his_ rather impressive 'superhero'.

No idea that sex with him would completely blow her mind. He's tender and passionate, adventurous and everything her deepest desires and dirtiest fantasies could have ever imagined, and _more_. And it just keeps getting better and better.

No idea that he fell just a little bit in love with her right after he first propositioned her; when she smiled, bit her lip, leaned in close… and _turned him down_. And when she strutted away with her back straight, shoulders back, hips swaying, he knew he was a goner.

No idea that her father had gone to the loft just before her shooting; introduced himself to Rick Castle and pleaded with him to convince his stubborn daughter to stop her quest, convince her that _her life was worth more than her Mother's death. _They had kept too many secrets about her mother's case, secrets that almost ruined them; this was the final one.

No idea that he gives a head massage that's _almost_ as good as sex. Actually, if she's being truthful, it's probably _better_ than some of the sex she's had in the past. The first time he did it was in the shower; she was already semi-boneless after spending most of the afternoon in his bed and he washed and conditioned her hair for her, massaging the conditioner into her scalp and eventually her already wobbly legs refused to hold her up any longer. He was suitably rewarded for his efforts later that evening.

No idea that during the Candela case, he really would've dropped his pants. When she suggested he and Will Sorenson end their testosterone-fest... _just __drop their pants and get it over with, _he really was _game_. He can admit it now; she was already under his skin, even back then, and the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head that day.

No idea that for months, he had nightmares about the day she was shot... the terror that ripped through him when the bullet ripped through her, the fear in her eyes, her heart stopping in the back of that ambulance, her blood everywhere; on his hands, his clothes, soaking the cotton of her dress-gloves in a horrifying contrast of red against white. That day has left a jagged and permanent emotional scar, as real as the physical and emotional scars _she_ carries.

No idea that his unfailing generosity extends well beyond his friends, and loved ones. His mother let it slip only recently, that he has made countless, _anonymous_ donations to a variety of charities over the years. He is also the patron of a charity dedicated to improving child and adult literacy in disadvantaged communities. She went with him once, to one of the community reading programs where he read Jack and the Beanstalk, complete with character voices, to a room full of captivated kids. She's not sure who had more fun; him or them?

No idea just how lonely some periods of his childhood and adolescence had been. Or how he turned bullying, isolation and a strong sense of self-preservation to his advantage; transformed the introvert into an extrovert, the serious and deep-thinking loner into the class clown, and basically joked his way through. He resolved to make people laugh and wreak some havoc along the way. Like she'd once said to him... _the school's funniest kid. _Unfortunately it got him expelled, more than once.

No idea that, for all his suggestive comments, teasing and innuendo about raunchy ladies underwear and kinky intimate apparel, black leather panties and hot-pink studded bras really aren't his thing. He prefers lace to leather, silk to studs and loves it when she wears elegant and beautiful underwear; and yes, the 'briefer' the better. He _is_ still a man after all. But surprisingly, he seems most _enamoured_ when she's wearing the 'Little Miss Bossy' tank top he bought for her and a pair of _his _boxers; neither of which ever seem to stay on for very long.

No idea that, despite being described as a 'Master of the Macabre' and detailing countless, grisly murders in his books, he actually gets a little sick at some of their more gruesome crime scenes.

No idea that _he_ is the one with the tattoo. It's on the outside of his right hip and she _discovered_ it on their first night together as she was, somewhat frantically, divesting him of his pants. She paid special attention to it several hours later... in his shower. He regrets getting it, she kinda likes it.

No idea that the bump on the first knuckle of his right middle finger is from writing; he literally _penned _his first novel with that hand, wrote every word in his distinctive, flowing scrawl.

No idea that as he sat at his daughter's graduation, tears in his eyes, his heart swelling with pride at her success, there was also an excruciating ache in his chest and terror coiling deep in his gut at the possibility of leaving the ceremony and being confronted with the words; _we regret to inform you that Detective Kate Beckett was kil_... she never let him finish that sentence, halting his words with more whispered apologies and tearful, impassioned kisses.

No idea how truly painful it is to ride a horse naked; for a man at least. No idea that for weeks after the now infamous police horse incident, he'd had very serious concerns for the welfare of his manhood. She couldn't help laughing at the way he crossed his legs protectively while reliving the memory and later, she did her utmost to reassure him that in her expert opinion, his _manhood_ was working just fine.

No idea how hot and bothered he'd really been the first time she drove his Ferrari. This particular confession came while she was once again behind the wheel; and concluded with them getting hot and bothered _together,_ in the passenger seat of said vehicle. The resulting bumps, bruises and back pain… _totally _worth it.

No idea that being loved by Richard Castle, _allowing_ herself to be loved by him, would prove to be so much _more_ than she ever could have imagined or hoped for.

And she has _absolutely_ no idea that he's already told her Dad that he fully intends to marry her one day, and that Jim Beckett has given his heartfelt and enthusiastic blessing _and_ made it clear that he is more than ready to become a Grandfather.

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**It's really the end this time. Thanks again for your encouragement and I would love you to have your say about this chapter... please.**


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